CHAPTER

4

While the children were growing up, I was busy dealing with my responsibilities at Bacardi and finding a way to break them out of their rut and diversify.

But at the company, the mention of diversification was worse than blasphemy. As owners of the nation’s largest Hispanic company for four consecutive years, Bacardi Imports’ shareholders were too smug for their own good. In 1980, it surpassed even Smirnoff as the number-one liquor brand in the United States and continued to speed so far ahead of its competitors, it seemed impossible for them to ever catch up.

However, the company couldn’t ride the same wave forever. It was not only competing against a plethora of liquor brands, the independent family-run company was further threatened by the era of mergers, acquisitions and monstrously powerful conglomerations looming ahead.

Attempting to detach some dinosaurs from their prehistoric comfort zone was my biggest challenge at the company. The shareholders were far removed from their founders’ pioneering vision, still relying on ingredients that dated back to the turn of the century. Employees and shareholders had all lived more than comfortably with the product line as it was, depending on their dated conservative ads, loyal distributors, and consumers’ penchant for Bacardi and Coke, which accounted for over 50 percent of its sales. They would much rather have repeated this pattern until the cows came home than risk their stable income for the sake of evolving the company.

But I knew we had to bring diversification to the product line. And I was determined to use my power to push it through. The way I saw it, it was simply good business: If you are looking for assets to invest in, the more you diversify, the lower the risk of losing your money. By spreading your money into more diverse portfolios, you are less susceptible to the fluctuations in the market or other variables which may unexpectedly wipe out your entire investment. A similar strategy needed to be applied to Bacardi’s product line.

Up until now, the company had relied—albeit successfully— on year-to-year marketing plans. However, I was in for the long haul and set about instituting a thoroughly researched long-term strategy for the company.

We had also relied heavily on advertising agencies to conduct marketing research for us but I decided it was time to take our future into our own hands. I hired heavyweight research groups to track consumer behavior, as well as both long- and short-range trends. We dispersed spies across the country to scrutinize every sip that touched our consumers’ lips, with the precision of James Bond on a mission to save the world.

So far, the company’s lack of diversity had worked in its favor rocketing from 2.8 million cases in the 1970s to 8.6 million cases a decade later. For the company, rum was all or nothing and everyone from the heirs to the distributors could direct all their energy into creating, promoting, distributing—or simply collecting dividends—from the one product. There was no risk of spreading the brand too thin as, up until the end of the ’70s, Bacardi’s biggest variable lay in its color.

The company’s strongest play was its ability to get prime positioning on liquor store shelves and floor displays as, by 1985, Bacardi Silver, Bacardi Amber, and Castillo (its down-market brand) had cornered 65% of the rum market. For such a small, family-run company competing in an aggressive, oversaturated industry, the brand recognition it had nurtured was instrumental to its future success.

The company invested in a full-fledged marketing campaign as soon as its headquarters moved to the U.S. in the ’60s, establishing Bacardi rum as the ultimate versatile liquor. In order to stave off competitors such as vodka and darker rum brands, it adopted the slogan: “Enjoyable always and all ways,” intended to be taken literally. During its evolution, Bacardi had been developed as a palatable, light-colored rum, later branded as the Bacardi Silver Label, which could substitute any spirit and be enjoyed with any mixer.

However, the company couldn’t ride the same wave forever. In the 1980s, consumers were experimenting with their drinking habits and the trend of innovative mixologists and groundbreaking cocktail culture were nascent, while the company stubbornly stuck to its guns, relying on the popularity of Bacardi and Coke.

We employed trend analysts to determine what people were drinking and discovered there was a gaping hole in the stagnant market for new opportunities and unique ideas. The distilled spirits industry as a whole was suffering due to a worldwide recession, federal excise tax increases, crackdowns on drunken driving and a trend in weight consciousness, scaring people away from high-calorie cocktails.

We decided we would have to identify the future drinking trends and be one step ahead of the game. We made some drastic changes, such as replacing our advertising and sales agencies and introducing some brand-new products, both independently and as joint ventures with Coca-Cola’s Minute Maid. The changes I help coerced through—and enemies I accumulated along the way—were not in vain and The Wall Street Journal named Bacardi Minute Maid as having one of the best new products of the year.

When we researched the current market conditions, the results showed that we had one prime competitor in New York: crack cocaine! The average New York price of a 200-milliliter bottle of rum that could conveniently fit into an addicts’ back pocket was $5, about the same amount it cost for a fix of crack. Our most loyal consumers were predominantly African-Americans who lived in low-class neighborhoods —the same purchasers who defected to crack when the average price of a bottle of liquor rose by approximately 50 cents due to a combination of price and tax increases.

There was no way to compete with the black market. Illegal substances are obviously not affected by local distributor pricing or tax restrictions and we couldn’t afford to lower our prices. There was nothing we could do to keep a stronghold on the drug addicts who had once been our most loyal customers. The only solution I could come up with was to diversify and target a more prosperous market.

Our evaluation of the company’s biggest market, New York, showed that people preferred to drink Bacardi neat or with Coke, so we needed to introduce a new, exciting way to consume the old war horse and reach out to a broader clientele. We dispatched our agents to trendy bars across the country to tell us what our young American consumers were ordering. I was appalled to find out it wasn’t Bacardi.

The backlash against fattening drinks was impeding our sales. Rum was so high in calories that women were defecting to white wine. We responded with a campaign, distributing quizzes that compared Bacardi to wine. The questionnaire demonstrated that four ounces of Diet Coke (which had only recently been released onto the market with unchartered success) mixed with one ounce of Bacardi had half the calories of a five-ounce glass of white wine. A similar portion of Bacardi and orange juice was equal in calories to the same amount of white wine, but the Bacardi drink had less alcohol in it.

We invested in advertising campaigns to push white rum and Diet Coke or orange, supporting our low-calorie, lessalcohol crusade, while simultaneously poaching fans of the Screwdriver, the second most popular drink in the nation, after rum and Coke.

The reports also revealed that the under-26 crowd, upon which we depended for half our sales, was defecting towards more fashionable cocktails. Wine coolers and the Fuzzy Navel, a new concoction of orange juice and peach-flavored Schnapps, were all the rage among young females who liked to drink socially without necessarily enjoying the taste of alcohol.

We needed to find other ways to stimulate demand and entice our loyalists back quickly by offering our own refreshing, exotic cocktails they would not be able to resist.

We looked back to the old Cuban classics, which exuded the exotic and romantic lifestyle associated with Cuba at the turn of the century. The Cuba Libre is said to have been invented in 1900, after the Spanish-American War for Cuban Independence; the Daiquiri was named after a Cuban village at around the same time, when an American mining engineer allegedly mixed Bacardi, crushed ice and lime juice; and piña coladas date back to around 1950. These untapped tropical drinks were our forbidden fruit consumers would not be able to resist.

Through the success of our marketing campaigns, Bacardi rum was already branded as “the mixable one” but now it was time to expand that concept, and we had to convince the company’s brand owners (based at Bacardi and Company Limited in Nassau), that upscale frozen drinks were the way forward. Experiments had revealed that it was impossible to pre-mix exotic cocktails and retain the high quality Bacardi had built its reputation on.

The company had established a long history with the Coca-Cola Company, having paired up since the invention of Cuba Libres, and maintained a relationship through a variety of joint consumer promotions dating back to the 1960s. Coca-Cola Foods serendipitously owned the leading “frozenade” subsidiary, Minute Maid, which had already developed popular pre-canned frozen mixers. They were made to blend with water and ice to create a slushy juice, so it made sense to form a collaboration between the two superpower brands, marketed under the Bacardi trade name and distributed and promoted by Coca-Cola Foods. Our idea was to replace the water with rum and blend the mixers to create ice-blended cocktails, thereby serving the interests of both companies in one product.

As the concentrates were frozen, they would have a better shelf life while guaranteeing the best flavor and consistency and being pre-made and sold in a can with measured proportions made them accessible to the general public since they were so easy to prepare.

It took the engineers at the Bacardi Nassau many years of experimentation to perfect the taste but eventually a whole line of Tropical Fruit Bacardi Mixers was developed, entering the market with four of the most popular tropical fruit drink flavors: daiquiri, strawberry daiquiri, piña colada and mai tai punch.

Fancy rum cocktails are popular but complicated to concoct. With piña coladas, you need the right amount of rum, strained pineapple juice and creamed coconut to make the ideal drink and, when directions become complicated to follow, people lose interest, especially when they’re eager for a quick fix!

With the Bacardi tropical fruit mixers, we offered mouth-watering flavors straight out of a 99-cent can—it was as simple as that. And by collaborating with Minute Maid, it also meant we could expand our distribution avenues, brainstorm cross-merchandising programs and cut costs by co-advertising.

Being non-alcoholic meant that the company could sell the mixers in grocery stores and other retail outlets that didn’t have a liquor license, thereby increasing our brand value. In the supermarkets that did have the right to sell distilled spirits, we placed “buy one, get one free” coupons in the spirits section, designed to increase an awareness of the mixers amongst our existing customers, and hopefully encourage them to drink the two products together.

In addition to expanding our brand value, branching out into the non-alcoholic drinks business benefited our advertising endeavors. Prior to 1996, there was a code of ethics among the liquor companies towards advertising. They scratched Congress’ back by not advertising on TV and in return the taxes on liquor magically didn’t increase. The prohibition had made advertising for spirits a cloak and dagger affair, with people trying to find ways to pacify the government in order to sell alcohol legally.

Wine companies did not have to abide by the same code of conduct and when liquor companies and big brand names, like Bacardi, entered the wine market, the fine line bordering social responsibility gradually disintegrated. However, even prior to that, the company was able to circumvent that value system. Even though the Bacardi trademark was plastered all over the can and the mixers were intended for alcoholic rum cocktails, the product itself was not alcoholic and could therefore be advertised on television.

The mixers went out into test markets in Houston, Orlando and Jacksonville in October 1986 and were so successful that, for the first time in the history of the company, Coca-Cola advanced its national rollout schedule way ahead of time.

Due to popular demand, by the following year we had already expanded the line, introducing peach and banana daiquiris and deviations of the piña colada. Our researchers also reported back that, with the exception of the West Coast, most Americans didn’t know what a margarita was, so we played on the name recognition and introduced the Margarita Bacardi Mixer, encouraging our customers to replace tequila with rum. And as the Fuzzy Navel proved to be the latest trend among young female drinkers, we capitalized on its popularity, this time replacing the Schnapps with rum.

The Bacardi clan was concerned that Americans would drink the mixers without Bacardi but our tour-de-force marketing blitz ensured that was not the case and both our rum and the mixers outperformed our expectations. In 1986, the company’s debut into the non-spirit-based business made $54 million in one year.

In its efforts to diversify, the company rose out of the doldrums and by 1987 sales rebounded substantially. Although the corporate cronies had taken a strong stance against branching away from its rum staples, the more savvy executives were slowly making an effort to diversify and were rewarded with record income and dividend payments in the two years succeeding the introduction of Bacardi mixers to the market.

Following the success of the mixers, the members of the board were on a roll, allowing us to develop another new product, the Bacardi Breezer, a premixed “alcopop” with 4% alcohol. There was a demand for refreshing, ready-to-drink, alcoholic beverages and again the Breezers played into our efforts to brand the rum as “the mixable one.” By developing this line, we were so far ahead of our time that it wasn’t until seven years later (1994) that Smirnoff and other liquor companies posed a threat. The Breezers exceeded our sales objectives by 27% and, again, we expanded the product into a variety of multi-million-dollar flavors.

The key to this kind of success is to get to know your customer first hand and find out directly what their demands are. At Hyatt hotels, the executives become bellhops and waiters for one week each year in order to reach out and touch the customer. At Proctor & Gamble’s product manager seminars, one day is spent talking to customers in stores.

A good leader does not get stuck behind a desk. Richard Branson, one of the most successful entrepreneurs and branding masterminds of the last three decades, has never worked in an office. He uses his home as a base but he is constantly traveling and meeting people. Even though he is a billionaire, he is not above talking directly to his customers. If he’s on a Virgin Atlantic plane, he will make a point of conversing with all the staff and many of the passengers and he always carries around a notebook to jot down questions, concerns or good ideas. He is the first to admit the lengths to which he will go to get constructive feedback: “If I meet a group of Virgin Atlantic crew members, they are going to have at least ten suggestions or ideas. If I don’t write them down, I may remember only one the next day. By writing them down, I remember all ten. Get out and shake hands with all the passengers on the plane, and again, there are going to be people who had a problem or have a suggestion. Write it down, make sure that you get their names, get their e-mail addresses, and make sure the next day that you respond to them.”¹

Richard Branson is the face of his company brand, he stars in Virgin’s commercials, goes on highly publicized, daring ballooning expeditions and, with the help of his trendy sales assistants and flight stewards, he perpetuates the fun and hip company image that appeals to his target demographic.

Virgin started with a simple idea that developed over time. When Branson opened his record store in 1971, he thought it might be a success if he made it a cool place to hang out and kept prices low. He hoped that the combination would make the store popular and that the resulting sales volume would make up for lower prices.

Two of the keys to keeping your marketing cutting-edge are customization and personalization—essentially letting your customer know you think of them as an individual and showing that you understand their lifestyle. If you don’t speak to their lifestyle, a customer will tune you out.

Branson’s marketing team understands the demographic it is selling to and tailors its image to suit its clients by offering cheaper, trendier products and services. At Virgin, the magic is created by offering an overall customer experience at outstanding value, and Branson realizes that his employees are the engine that can make that happen.

If you are to emulate such success, whatever market you operate in, you need to understand your own strengths and exploit them. For instance, if market research is telling you that your customers like the friendly, approachable staff you employ, then build your brand and your marketing strategy around those strengths. If it is your reliability, your ability to complete a job to high standards and to a fixed deadline, then play up to those qualities. If they tell you they can’t get your services anywhere else at the price you are offering, then make the most of that strength.

At Bacardi it was very challenging to be able to respond to anything quickly. Even though market research was invested in, making any changes could take years to get approved by the multiple layers of command at the company. However, eventually we were able to push through some changes and the awards and increased profits proved how effective responding to customer feedback and future trends can be. Today, Bacardi is a great corporation. Through Facundo L. Bacardi’s leadership, a young member of the family, the company has diversified with the acquisition of brands like Grey Goose, Deward’s Blended Scotch, Martini and Bombay Sapphire. I wish I had been there to participate in its accomplishments.

Unfortunately, every company is riddled with politics, even if they are surreptitiously brushed under the carpet. If you work at a company, study the corporate mandate and follow it. Don’t distance yourself or think that you exclusively know what’s best for the company—data isn’t enough to prove you’re indispensable.

Build allies all around you and open up channels of communication from the cleaner to the president, encouraging input, feedback and criticism. If you ignore the people around you, they will resent you and stab you in the back when you’re not looking —and never underestimate the power of even the lowliest workers. They can be the biggest help because often they represent public opinion and they can also plant the seeds for your demise because they speak to the public.

Have a direct dialogue with the highest level available to you. I reported only to Ed because I didn’t want to get weighed down by other people’s power struggles and games that are so easy to waste energy on. I was stubborn and didn’t feel the need to justify my actions to other employees at the company, or its shareholders, even though they were the governing body and I was ultimately answering to them. At Bacardi, the board of shareholders had the voting power and even the chairman was ultimately puppeteered by them.

I knew that I was bringing in the numbers and expected results to speak louder than self-justifying explanations and superfluous small talk. My priority and mandate was execution, not inter-company politics, so I steamed forward with full force and blindly did what I thought was right for the company.

Given the developing drinking culture and major liquor brands’ frenetic efforts to swallow any competition, by the time I was hired by Ed Nielsen in 1979, it was already glaringly apparent that the one-trick pony was at a high risk of being left behind or gobbled up.

I wasn’t afraid to shake up the environment and, the second I was in a position to, I unrestrainedly broke the company’s sanctimonious mold, not revering anyone or any policies that couldn’t survive the changing times. I knew what the company needed in order to succeed and decided it was time to shit or get off the pot.

My first step was to ruthlessly let the chair warmers go. I fired distributors and advertising agencies that I felt were not up to par, and I started dissecting the company, bringing its vulnerable state of affairs to the board of directors’ attention. The results showed that the company depended on a very limited product line, at an increasingly high risk of failure. I was young and aggressive and had no time for wining and dining the family members—even though, in their eyes, entertaining each other came second to nothing—and I certainly wasn’t about to agree with any of their offensive pontifications.

As you can imagine, my methods went down like a lead balloon within the good-old-boy network of procrastinators. However, I wasn’t there to make friends, so I concentrated on delivering the goods instead. After all, my mandate was to support Ed and push the company to new heights—not to be a politician.

Acting with almost no inhibitions proved to be extremely effective in terms of results and, if profits had been the company’s only concern, I would have been its golden goose. But I learned a valuable lesson: diplomacy is just as critical as execution and in order to advance, you need to be able to balance the two. Selling your ideas to those you are answering to, whether it is your customer, your boss, investors or critics, is just as important as executing them. Ironically, I have since spun 180 degrees and now my job at Grupo Salinas predominantly focuses on selling the company’s ideas to its investors and stakeholders; to make them believe in what we are doing and invest in it, even if it did take an awakening slap in the face for that lesson to sink in for me.

Machiavelli distinguishes between those innovators who stand alone or those who depend on others. As my father-in- law was always the mediator between me and the board of Bacardi, I was at his mercy—and being reliant on him was a capricious place to be, especially as the inter-family conflicts escalated. Not having my own support network became a detrimental issue.

During the ’80s, Bacardi was the Cinderella story of the liquor industry, flying high and aiming for the high heavens, but before long the shit hit the fan. I was the redheaded stepchild of the family about to be usurped by an army of Don Facundo’s 1000 or so descendants—and my strongest ally was the one to deliver the news. As well as working assiduously to achieve great heights, I was under no delusion that my eventual promotion to president was largely contingent on my relationship with the chairman. I didn’t have my own intrinsic allegiances and, with the escalating inter-family conflicts, loyalties ultimately lay where the bread was buttered.

In 1989, Ed called me into his office and delivered the news straight up. The shareholders were not happy with my management style and wanted me out. He was working on a severance package to compensate me—and shut me up—but I wasn’t about to accept defeat without a fight.

I reminded Ed of the deal we had negotiated prior to my joining Bacardi. He had employed me to run the operation of the company and deliver results—both of which I had over-performed on. As I said before, when I started at the company, Ed had cost the company millions of dollars with his poor investment decisions. He had advised the company to buy Lloyd’s Electronics in 1983 as well as green light the formation of a new company called Bacardi Capital for the sole purpose of investing in the bond market. Within three years the move had cost the company close to $50 million and both ventures were shut down. He had then acquired the Dennis & Huppert wine company, which was about to cost them even more until I had come on and turned the company around.

We were chartering new waters. Having started with Papillon, we collaborated with Minute Maid, one of the most recognized household names in the world, to make accessible drink mixers. Our line expanded into premium rums as well as affordable, easy-to-drink “alcopops” and ignited a longlasting, fruitful relationship with Martini & Rossi. With bitter irony, the year the company had made more money than ever before, and the profits were on an incline, was the year I was fired.

I made my father-in-law an offer: Allow me to communicate directly with the family board members for the next six months leading up to the annual board meeting. I was confident I could convince them they were making a mistake. Up until that point, Ed had kept me tightly under his wing, serving as the middleman between me and the board. I reported only to him and any information the board of family members received was mediated indirectly. I told him that if he allowed me to have this six-month trial period, and I failed, they could keep my severance. However, Ed wasn’t getting any younger and was afraid of being put out to pasture himself. I was at his mercy and he chose to serve me up as the sacrificial lamb in order to protect his own position at the company. Needless to say, he declined my offer. I was forced to land on the bed of thorns that had been laid out for me, or as they put it, “the golden parachute,” and any sense of loyalty went straight out the window.

A life lesson learned the hard way: Identify your enemies and keep them close but pick your allies carefully and be wary of trusting anyone—friends and family can represent the most dangerous kind of enemy.

When it comes to business, loyalties extend only as far as what you have to offer. Appealing to justice and people’s gratitude will occasionally succeed but it can also have the adverse affect; being indebted to someone is a burden people are more than happy to rid themselves of.

The key to having in ally is to know what motivates them and be in the position to appeal to their self-interests. If you need to ask for help, do not expect others to feel that they owe you anything; consider their needs, and do not be blinded by your own.

According to Machiavelli’s rule of thumb, a leader at the mercy of others must use persuasion to achieve his or her goals but, although people are fickle by nature and easily persuaded, it is difficult to maintain their support. Through perseverance I gained the support of the Bacardis when it came to implementing at least some of my grand visions for the company, but ultimately they were stuck in their old ways and I would need a more vigorous strategy to win the power struggle in the long term. If I had lived by Machiavelli’s advice, I would have had an army on standby!

Politicians build campaigns around manipulating people’s perception of them and in business it is just as important to sell yourself and your ideas and not equate actions and results with unchallenged support.

Castro was a political mastermind, standing on the moral high ground in his fight for justice with such conviction so as to be perceived just as he intended: as the honorable polar opposite of Batista and his corrupt American mafia cohorts. He was so concerned with the people’s perception of him that he hired one of the best public relation firms in the United States.

In April 1959, amid rampant accusations that he was a communist, Castro embarked on a weeklong propaganda crusade across the east coast of America. His charm and self-portrayal were perfected down to the last syllable. His publicists later admitted they had never handled such a consummate actor and even his “Fidelenglish” was an asset. He answered the most impertinent questions calmly and maintained a sense of good humor. He appealed to the most important all-American values, being photographed eating hot dogs and hamburgers; declaring his intentions to establish a “real democracy,” with the right to work, read, and write; as well as advocating the freedom of speech. He denied any intention of nationalizing Cuba, promising to hold free elections and open channels for U.S. investment.

Castro’s power of persuasion was so acute that he could find an ally in almost anyone, even if his intentions did vacillate according to his audience. When appealing to Americans, he adamantly aligned himself with democracy right up until December 2, 1961, when he declared on national broadcast that he was a Marxist-Leninist after all and that from here on out Cuba was adopting communism. He mobilized crowds with titillating speeches, galvanizing flocks of people by telling them what they were desperate to believe.

Cubans longed for independence from foreign occupation and liberty from Batista’s corrupt reign. The country had been stripped of its wealth and the Cuban people’s moral was at rock bottom. As soon as Castro came into power, he did all he could to appease the working and middle classes. Even though he barely had the means, he created a false sense of security by flushing in the money he had received through bribes the previous year. In 1959, the Habana municipal administration built 38 new school complexes, and Castro reduced rent and utility rates, as well as improving health care for all. By presenting himself as their savior and the antithesis of Batista, Castro was cultivating the people’s unconditional support in preparation for the months ahead when he would need it.

Once his power was masterfully secured, Castro’s true intention to introduce rigid socialism, instead of the democracy he had been preaching, began to materialize. He warned that the revolution wouldn’t be easy “but a harsh and dangerous undertaking, particularly in the initial phases.” However, his listeners were willing to invest in those hardships for the sake of future prosperity.

Once Batista fled the country and Castro was in power, he set about eradicating all opposition with sheer force—but by the time Castro had masterminded an official “counter-revolutionary” witch hunt, he had already skillfully used his powers of persuasion to secure the people’s blind faith in him. His supporters were willing to condone almost anything for the Defense of the Revolution.

He suppressed the media and freedom of speech in the name of protecting Cuba from its enemies and justified nationalization by saying that Cuba’s private entrepreneurs followed “a policy contrary to the interests of the Revolution.” He used armed forces to contain any resisters and provoked the rest of his opposition so that they would leave the country. As a rhetorical tactic, he charmingly compared the deserters to pus being squeezed out of a boil—scoffing at those that fled his regime, like the fox in Aesop’s fable, who denigrated the “sour” grapes it could not reach.

As the icing on the cake, to solidify his defense against a national uprising or U.S. invasion, Castro allied with the U.S.S.R., which provided Cuba with arms and over one hundred Spanish-speaking advisors. Even when CIA-trained Cuban exiles attempted to overthrow him with the backing of the U.S. government, Castro was fully prepared to win the Bay of Pigs attack: the first defeat of Yankee imperialism.

In order to implement change, you need to be Machiavellian like Castro in your strategy. Appeal to what people want and use the familiarity of tradition, political deception and rhetoric to win them over.

Almost in the same line of Castro´ strategy, once I had acquired the market research to figure out what needed to be done to renovate Bacardi, I went on a rampage, firing obsolete employees, building new marketing campaigns and bringing in intimidating power-house consultants. I had no prior ties or allegiances to the company and so nothing was sacred.

However, enforcing change too hard is threatening and evokes fear of being left behind or not being involved in the progress. We are creatures of comfort and habit. Innovation is traumatic and people will fight against it. To gain the support of those who have spent years dedicated to the company or others who are set in their ways of doing things, you need to implement change surreptitiously, appearing to cherish tradition and old customs and conceal your bigger intentions until you are in a secure position to enforce them.

The U.S. and Cubans feared Castro was a communist, so until he was securely in a position of autonomy, even after the revolution had taken place Castro convinced everyone that he was a proponent of democracy. Initially he made very few changes other than to offer his people the better standard of living they were desperate for, and he waited until his opposition was quashed before enforcing communism in Cuba and revealing that he was Marxist after all.

Just like Machiavelli forewarned, new leadership cannot last long without a new set of values to fill the void a revolution has created. People ultimately don’t like changes that affect them on a day-to-day basis, and after the euphoria of a successful revolution has fizzled out, people will long for the old customs they were used to, hence the expression “better the devil you know.”

Castro preached new ideals for a better Cuba and associated the change with tradition and festivity to keep his supporters happy. Demonstrations bore a greater semblance to family-friendly celebrations, incorporating live music and dancing.

Instead of unnecessarily estranging his supporters by declaring himself a dictator after they had just been liberated from tyranny, Castro installed a democratic government. This killed two birds with one stone as the act simultaneously bought him time to covertly prepare his more radical reform plans, and by the end of 1959, twelve of the twenty-one cabinet ministers Castro had chosen in January had either resigned or been forced out.

If, during my high-flying years at Bacardi, winning awards and working my way up the company, I had been blessed with the political savvy and wisdom I have since developed, I may have done things differently. In retrospect, I should have spent more time and effort building stronger allegiances and support of the intricate web of Bacardi shareholders, board of directors, my fellow employees, and Gloria’s extended family. There’s a possibility that if I had insisted on having a direct line of communication with the shareholders from the start, they would have perceived me very differently. I can only imagine that had I done so, even with Ed standing between the board and me, when push came to shove, I would have been in a stronger position with an army of loyal colleagues to come to my defense, instead of being a lone wolf without a leg to stand on.

After I was ousted from Bacardi, the diversification I had been propagating for the last ten years finally came to fruition— and my successors got 100% of the credit.

In 1977, Manuel Jorge Cutillas, Emilio Bacardi’s great-great grandson, became the President and CEO of two of the five Bacardi subsidiaries. In 1992, he instigated the long-due restructuring of the company, merging all of the autonomous subsidiaries into one new holding company that he presided over, Bacardi Limited.

The transformation was instrumental in materializing all the seeds my team and I had spent years sowing. Under Cutillas’ leadership, profits were reinvested into the company instead of stripping its funds in order to pay the shareholders their extortionate dividends. With the capital to invest, Bacardi Limited set about dramatically expanding its portfolio of brands, immediately embarking on one of the boldest moves in the family’s history by acquiring the entire Martini & Rossi group for a reported $1.4 billion. The company went from being only a rum company to a full-fledged spirits company and doubled its worth instantly—only the beginning of what was yet to come.

Prior to the consolidation of the company, the other subsidiaries had paid their Bahamian partner handsomely for the use of the Bacardi trademark—including the famous bat logo—because of the island’s tax incentives. As a result, the board of Nassau’s Bacardi & Company Limited was rewarded with a disproportionate amount of control, paralyzing our U.S. operation from reacting to new trends. By profession, most of the executives in Nassau were engineers, not visionaries, and convincing them to approve any deviations from their old-school ways was comparable to clearing your name in court, except the presumption was guilty until proven innocent.

I could smell the direction that the market was taking from miles away but in order to be timely, we would have to move with the speed of a hare, not an easy feat in a company full of tortoises. Captain Morgan was hardly known in the U.S. when it launched its Original Spiced Rum line in 1984, but the new product was an instant hit, establishing the Captain’s brand-name internationally, while biting into a large piece of our pie. We immediately saw the potential to create our own Bacardi Spiced Rum line but our brand owners were dead set against it. We even built a well-researched case with documented statistics to prove that they were making a mistake, but the Bahamians stuck to their guns, insisting it would cannibalize the company. Ten years after spiced rum had made its dent in the market—and after I was long gone—the company decided it was a good idea after all. In 1996, they released their own spiced line, investing millions of dollars on marketing the product, racing to make up for lost time.

Successfully branching out into the wine industry when I first started at the company had made the wheels of change start turning. It had proven to the Bacardis that the company could diversify and still guarantee their incomes and it showed the liquor industry that Bacardi could sell products other than its trusty old rum.

Even though the company would be forced to eventually adapt to liquor industry trends and acquire other brands in order to avoid getting eaten up by bigger sharks, with or without me, my premature push for change and expansion served as a catalyst for its revolution. The family wasn’t ready for the aggressive changes I was proposing but in the ensuing years, a plethora of other brands were acquired, including as I said before Grey Goose, William Lawson’s and Dewar’s Scotch whisky, Bénédictine liqueur, Eristoff vodka, Noilly Prat vermouth, and Bombay Sapphire gin—making Bacardi Limited the largest private spirits company in the world.